John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. She described it so vividly. On his arrival at Dollis Hill, Mr. 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. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. Latterly I’ve been doing things. A sense of impending disaster was upon him.
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