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. "Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. Lucy inhaled deeply. The contact is disturbing; and we prefer going around the fact to facing it.
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