But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair.
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