The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. He hadn't played fair. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. ” He crossed himself and grinned. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. That’s why it’s so important I should take my own line now.
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