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. When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet. Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. He suspected a trap. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. Gosse had come to Blaye, so he had said, feeling it his duty as the vicomte’s erstwhile secretary to deliver the fateful tidings, bringing with him one of the servant girls, Yolande, who had also escaped the fury of the mob. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him.
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