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. He was as hard as a rock. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. “I can’t. ” Anna hesitated.
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