just furtive meetings. The doctor paced the room half a dozen times. Brendon was silent. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. Most subjects of any depth were taboo between them, especially when they were in his convertible. He had got here at speed by that means. 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. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol.
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