" "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering. He hanged your first husband. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. So he decided to stay. She realized in a moment what had happened. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames.
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