‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon.
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