It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. She caught at the idea. Suddenly remembering Kimble, her heart thudded with excitement. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling.
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