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” He fumed. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway.
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