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 thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. But kill me rather than commit this outrage.
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