Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. As for money, Nigel has tons of it.
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