But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Their conversation became stilted. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party.
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