Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Apparently he did not see his recent companions. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. 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.
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