It is difficult to express these things. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. 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. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself.
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