Wood laughed louder than ever. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. 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. "All cannot be well, if this is true. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight.
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