” He made a step toward her. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. 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. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion.
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