But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. 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. This is retribution. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion.
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