And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. ‘Not kill me, I mean. I asked her to marry me, and she consented. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes.
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