She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. Her head rose. ” She caressed his cheek seductively with her left palm and he closed his eyes in dreamy anticipation. 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. There was no answer. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple.
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