"Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. I’ve got a streak of male. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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