“Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. I never want you to be ashamed of me. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. 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.
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