He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought.
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