She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Your husband could have told you that. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks.
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