I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. Forster, the rebel general's escape, but acquitted, reaped a golden harvest during the occupation of his premises by the Preston rebels, when a larger sum was obtained for a single chamber than (in the words of a sufferer on the occasion) "would have paid the rent of the best house in Saint James's Square or Piccadilly for several years. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. I’d come back from the ends of the earth.
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