“I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. 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. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Good-looking girl. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes.
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