You'll be wasting his time. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. 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. ‘But then again, possibly not. I must go perhaps in all the rooms.
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