’ ‘To be sure I do,’ said Gerald swiftly. Whoever this might be, the visit seemed to have some reference to the carpenter, for, shortly afterwards, Sharples made his appearance, and informed the captives they were free. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. Hope reared. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Small blame to her.
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