Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. ” “I was late. Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. I will do my utmost. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. But no; she must step warily.
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