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She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. “That’s what we narcs have to do. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. “I wish I understood more of biology,” said Manning.
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