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. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man.
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