But it would be too risky. Alors, one must steel oneself. 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. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily.
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