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. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. "At length, my vengeance is complete. A-L-I-V-A—Aliva—T-R-EN—Trencher that's it. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. “She’s been up to no good, Sheila.
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