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dark in the old inn-yard a stble wicket creaked where tim the ostler liestened; his face was white and peaked his eyes were hollows of madness, he loved the landlord's daughter.
one kiss, my bonny sweet heart, im after a prize to-night, but i shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
he rose upright in the sirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, but she loosened her hair i' the casement! his face burnt like a brand as the cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
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