Because of the Dance. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. Playing became a way of escape. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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