Gerald’s temper flared. She saw his eyes glaze over. "Marry, come up! Mightn't he just as reasonably complain of your being a Hanoverian and a Presbyterian? It's all matter of opinion. 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. ‘No. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. In truth, she liked Gerald also.
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