"Ah!" exclaimed Lady Trafford, exerting all her strength. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. Been making herself at home all right. “Not to-night,” she said. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. 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. Hill, Meysey Hill.
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