But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. 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. I thought you understood. "A hundred pounds if you do it quickly. "I understand," she said. I don’t know if I express myself clearly.
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