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Annabel thought, and thought again. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He did not stagger in the least. What she said is true. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. I should like to have had you forgive me. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. Norris says she's dying. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. ” Part 4 They lay side by side in a shallow nest of turf and mosses among bowlders and stunted bushes on a high rock, and watched the day sky deepen to evening between the vast precipices overhead and looked over the tree-tops down the widening gorge. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. Saint Giles's Round-house.
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