“I do not blame him. 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. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. “Child!” he cried. I’ve wanted you—always. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. He looked at her, his eyes filled with excited terror and astonishment at her move. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. ‘You must have been an exceedingly good pupil.
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