It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. Keep it! Keep it!” Part 6 They walked a long way that afternoon.
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