She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. "A husband has little to fear from his wife's kinsfolk. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale. “You will have some tea?” she asked.
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