In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. I overheard what Mr. He had deliberately saved it for last. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders.
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