One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. "I'll call you when you're wanted. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. 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. The weed was all right. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul.
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