, etc. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. 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. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. A slow anger burned in the man. But it would serve.
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