” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. . 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. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. But I sent him the longest way about. ’ There was a chuckle in his voice.
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