" "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. 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. "Mrs. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert. My birthday was on May first. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. The door to the room in question was closed.
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