Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. 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. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. The Ragged Edge. Charvill’s fury was burning out.
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