‘Here we go again. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. She turned quickly. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself.
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