The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. " "But I'm a poor man. " "So I perceive," said Ruth, withdrawing her hands.
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