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Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. 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. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me.
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