‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. I can't bear it. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor.
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