The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. Say, that girl fooled me at first glance. I've often regretted that I didn't investigate the matter. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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