’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. At the precise period of this history, the Jacobite party was full of hope and confidence. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. So it would always be between herself and Manning. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. It was now a quarter past twelve. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724.
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