In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. His food lay untouched about his plate. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. “But I am your husband,” he said. "You want me, then?" she said. At length, I shall ascertain my name.
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