A dreamy sense of content crept over him. Spurling. I loathe this room. . She was powerless to move from her chair. 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. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws.
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