“No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. . 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. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. Dorling said. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai.
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