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. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. " "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff.
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