" "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. She felt that with Capes near to her she would be content always to go on loving. 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. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. ’ Shock spread across her lovely features. ’ Gerald tutted. It's two hundred pounds. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy.
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