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See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. Wild here presently. “Perhaps. ‘Hilary was right. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more.
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