Now then. That wasn’t even the worst thing. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. That is my way, my dear. .
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