At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. I did not reckon upon—him. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. Whatever those rights may be, whoever I am, my heart is yours. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight.
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