’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. 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. Meysey Hill—never your wife. Taking the light, they then proceeded along the passage. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. . The noise of a bolt came to Alderley’s ears.
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