It’s an engagement ring. 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. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly. We felt like thieves. His name is John. But men are so careless, there's no trusting anything to them! However, I must try to brazen it out. They will guess that I am English. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready.
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