All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. Kneebone, and feeling certain of capturing him if he did so, Shotbolt, on quitting Newgate, hurried to the New Prison to prepare for the enterprise.
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