1. 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. He felt her observance and warmed to it. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear.
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