She still kicked herself for it. On the contrary. 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. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. ” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. ‘I hope I do not understand you. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. ” She muttered some unlady-like comment upon herself under her breath and engaged in secret additions.
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