Wild. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. She was radiant. It was Annabel’s. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air.
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