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You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. He glanced at his watch. 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. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again.
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