She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. . Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad.
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