” The official had no more to say. She owed the nun a great deal, including her command of English, for no one else thought to ensure she could speak her mother tongue. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. Then she went below. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. . The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. He only stays here for you, hoping in vain.
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