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. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. Mr. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. And he had destroyed all this. ‘It’s my belief she is a nun. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader.
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