Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. Perhaps you will explain the state of panic into which I seem to have thrown you. 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. It was enough.
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