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. ” It was sitting in her suitcase in the same pocket as the expired bus tickets. I do not wish that the soldiers there will see it shine. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. “He sees through it all.
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