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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. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. ” Anna looked at her steadily. "It is easy to make an assertion like this," said Thames, contemptuously. "This Enschede—the missioner. Wood. ” He stood up and waited for her to move.
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