Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. 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. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. “Mr. ” Anna smiled very faintly.
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