He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. “I should like to understand you,” he said. 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. She recognized the face but could not quite place it.
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