“You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. I don’t know. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat.
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