He lowered himself on to her. 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 small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur.
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