"It seems like six long months to me. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. "She may yet be saved. Only one penny—two copies—two pence—thank you, Sir. 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. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. "That's fine," said O'Higgins.
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