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. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. He's as nice and civil-spoken a gentleman as need be; by the same token," she added, in an under tone, "that he gave me a span new crown piece. You certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?” “You have been wrapped up in your politics,” she murmured.
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