“It’s bound to be all right,” she said. 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. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr. I thought that you loved Paris and your work so much.
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