"He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. Like stealing. 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 was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals.
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