I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. "I would not venture to renew my suit while Thames lived, because I well knew your affections were fixed upon him. You don’t understand. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. —'They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion; 'it's unconstitutional. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it. Your life is like a funeral March.
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