"Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. It was difficult to get right.
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