She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her.
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