‘You do not understand, Gérard. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. People are brought up to be so shy about money. 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. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica.
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