Chapter XIII
“HE WILL NOT FORGET!”
The external changes in Brendon following on his alteration of fortune were
sufficiently noticeable. Mr. "You are the son of Sir
Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. "Sir Rowland," he added, savagely, and with somewhat of the look of a
bull-dog before he flies at his foe, "if it were my pleasure to do so, I could crush
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another Georgian romance, FATED FOLLY, a sweet
and poignant tale of the ogre and the minx. She was now permitted freely to study the face. He thrust the smaller weapon
into a scabbard that hung from his belt. “Yes, I see that. He
looked melancholy enough, it is true. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would
make the chains of roses.
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