It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. "And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. I do not wish for you to see me feed. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. 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. It wasn’t pretty.
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