We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Your purposes are defeated. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. B. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief.
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