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 freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again.
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