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. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. The Church refrained from investigation only because so many of its high-standing members were among the most frequent guests, and because of a heady dose of Sebastian’s influence. A slow anger burned in the man. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley.
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