‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. “You may not leave. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt.
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