” Brendon leaned over confidentially. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. 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. “The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember.
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