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I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. 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. Every one else does. "Her ladyship—" faltered the attendant. She picked up the hand cannon.

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