"And now, shall we proceed to Queenhithe?" "Stay!" cried the other, taking a chair, "a word with you, Mr. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills.
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