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. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible.
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