. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. People do call their unlawful children strange names. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. .
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