’ ‘But this is idiot. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. 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. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by.
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