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 walked through the misty September night to his rooms. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. ’ Gerald sighed.
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