I did not lay any traps for her. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker.
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