Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. The lady had disappeared. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly.
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