Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. The flat was apparently empty. And this clear-visioned child had comprehended that only half the rogues were really ill.
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