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. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals.
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