" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. ” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression. Hastily, he reached for the door. 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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