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. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. I'm not hungry. . What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. And let us go on with our evening. “Admirably, thank you,” Anna answered.
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