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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 would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. ‘That will be a matter for her future husband to decide. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything.
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