"If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. The likeness was ridiculous. 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. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son.
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