He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. “Guess who I’m going out with?” Michelle asked her one day at lunch. . "Those tears will do you good. 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.
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