If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. You are my prisoner, murderer. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. It was easy to discover that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow; a combination of qualities by no means of rare occurrence. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins.
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