Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. 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. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. Send for Mr. . How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. “That’s exhilarating,” said Ann Veronica.
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