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. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. "Give it me," returned the carpenter; "all's safe.
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