Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. Fortescue?” “At your service. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up.
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