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. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. "I am, Charcoal. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. He had an objective now.
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