Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. I've got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve. 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. No other man should touch her; she was Hoddy's, body and soul, in this life and after.
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