‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. "I understand," she said.
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