“Goodnight. 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. This roof is still open to you. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. It is like a second honeymoon.
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