I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. But there was a face pressed to the glass. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. 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.
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