"I'll see him fettered myself. Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. 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.
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