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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. A neat tale, giving little away. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way.
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