“Well, I do. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. 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 kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table.
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