“It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. . If only you could see the people who have been to call on me! Sir John has the most absurd ideas, too. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. 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. He smiled tenderly.
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