She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. ” He said. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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