Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. “But you’re wrong. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Rousing himself, he went to the door. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull.
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