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. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. ’ ‘Ah. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself.
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