But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. 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. On the other hand the two young men who sat on either side of Anna were already throwing murderous glances at the newcomer.
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