" "Jonathan Wild was my husband's bitterest enemy," said Mrs. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. 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. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections.
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