She made me over. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it. \"How's it going, Lucy?\" She turned. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
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