She repeated this breathlessly. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. 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. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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