The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. 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. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction;—"a devilish pretty fellow!" "Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, "you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face. He drew her away from this thought. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Horrid snorters! So long, Vee! Just suggested it. Go to her.
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