Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. I love him as a brother. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. Her head rose.
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