That's how I finally got wind of it. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. 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. But I request that a third may be given to Langley. Those were dreams. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that.
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