She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. 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. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced.
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