The simile started a laugh in his throat. 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. Then to Dan Ware's, in Hanging Sword Court. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt.
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