Then to Dan Ware's, in Hanging Sword Court. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. It was Blueskin. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. It was not possible.
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