The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. 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. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland Trenchard. " "Impracticable dolt!" exclaimed Jonathan, furiously. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever.
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