She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. 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. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café.
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