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Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate. The latch came with a weak click. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat.
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