He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. .
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