He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. 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 was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. Earles regarded it approvingly. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. "I never told anybody," she went on. " "Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan.
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