That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful. On the very day of which we write, namely, the 10th of June 1715, Bolingbroke and Oxford were impeached of high treason.
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