“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours.
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