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. He dropped the key on the counterpane. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Several arrests of importance have been intrusted to him; but, forewarned, forearmed, we have constantly baffled his schemes;—ha! ha! Jonathan's a devilish clever fellow. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. " "Well, Sir, his name?" "Jonathan Wild. He couldn't have taken Mr. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. “And children must we women bear— “Oh, damn!” she cried, as the hundred-and-first couplet or so presented itself in her unwilling brain.
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