. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. “I knew I should have died!” She went fast into a state of shock. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically.
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