Prison was beastly. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. It was explosive and gratifying.
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