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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. " "Infernally provoking!" echoed Langley. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. " "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said.
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