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. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired.
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