The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. They will find me dead, yes. 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. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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