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. "That's usual. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present.
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