“Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. May I be permitted, as a very old and very dear friend of your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore, to ask you one question?" "Undoubtedly," replied Winifred. Anna said nothing. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. It was a haunted place. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth.
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