He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. “She can’t. 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. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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