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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. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. I’ve made up my mind. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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