Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. “You pushed the wheel from my hand.
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