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. “I had to. Winter came at the manor. E. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it.
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