I’d need to be out of my senses. 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. The progress of time was marked in Mr. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. I don’t want to get old or to watch my kids get married or retire. “You have not feeling enough. I could not love you else. ” “Never for a second.
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