266 She peered up at him. I've come to take you back home. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. To have you is all important. 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. You will begin to see it all opening out. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep.
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