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 poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. ” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. \"Thanks, Mike. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not. I was resolved to see you.
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