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. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. . “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. " The spinsters had no counter-philosophy to offer; so they turned to Ruth, who had singularly and unconsciously invested herself with glamour, the glamour of adventure, which the old maids did not recognize as such because they were only tourists. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
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