‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. I'll knock off at tea. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Annabel was in hiding all the time. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. While he was thus employed, his nerves underwent a severe shock.
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