"Stir a foot, at your peril. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. Once they were on the move, Kimble seemed to find strength from somewhere.
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