“What was that?” she asked sharply. ‘But of course. The doctor paced the room half a dozen times. It is only the women matter. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. Once in England, she made all haste to visit Remenham House. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. 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. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. I want to be a person by myself, and to pull my own strings.
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