She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. " "Where—where?" cried Thames. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. That’s what I mean. Better get back now! You be careful. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. He will not come. 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.
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