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. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. She had nothing to say for herself. I wanted to have something to give up. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon.
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