But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. In short, more preparations were made than if a state criminal was about to be executed. 3. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. 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. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. The perfume was the only one she ever used. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. The thought made her exquisitely happy. “I do not think that he is quite dead.
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