“Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. 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. "To Newgate," cried Jonathan, putting his head out of the window. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads.
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