“So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. 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. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. "You know my motive well enough," answered Jonathan.
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