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. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. And I need not tell you that her hotel bill is running on the same as yours.
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