"Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. “I can’t. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon.
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