. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. In an instant, she turned on him. “What?” He replied. I see. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. I shall still believe in you. Or else I would have finished him. Only that you will hurry and help Jacques. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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