She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. 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. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. "At a thought. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. ’ Gerald’s jaw tightened.
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