“We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. “I didn’t know you objected to him, daddy. Taber did not leave all his money in the office. 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. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full.
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