Listen to me, Winifred. I—well, I lost my temper. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. 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. . "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance.
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