“My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. In his way he was critical.
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