In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. ’ A scowl crossed the lady’s face. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. “It’s okay, Michelle. ” She raked into the fire with the poker. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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