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Divide the money between you, and wear the ornaments for my sake. 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. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. The doctor said you wrote. Sheppard. He had been quite right to sit down. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison.
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