I took the usual way home. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. It was a haunted place. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. 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. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister.
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