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We were going at a mad pace. 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. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. Funk! I’ll see it out. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. " Upon which, Mr. The evenings were dulcet and soft.
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