” “I believe you,” she murmured. 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. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Annabel thought, and thought again. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. A young man was playing the banjo. The boy would naturally attract the women, if the women were at all romantic.
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