“The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep. 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. I had a perfect shoal of callers. He started toward the dog with the idea of ejecting him, but Ruth intervened.
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