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. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. Abruptly would come the end. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. Prudence. .
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