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On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. 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. “Mere sensuality. She chuckled. " The little girl's countenance fell. " "That's my own concern," rejoined Sheppard. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. "One word before we part, adorable girl— only one," he continued, detaining her. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. " "May I look at it, Sir!" said Austin, stepping towards him. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. Heaven forbid. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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