He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. ’ ‘So I infer. ” She paused. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. “Do you believe me now?” She asked.
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