I don’t want to know. 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. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. As to his mother, I've no pity for her.
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