“Yes. Good-bye, aunt. He's safe enough now. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father. Spurling had retired for the night. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. I'll teach you submission in time. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me.
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