I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. 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. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. It would be very good to be Capes’ friend.
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