He turned, and beheld Winifred. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. We've never caught him cheating at cards; too clever; but we know he cheats. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks.
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