Her pulses began to race. 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. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. The arrest of this person is of consequence to me. "I've a good deal to do. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. He's nice.
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