She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. “And where are YOU going?” he said. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. He has been a father to me and my child. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. .
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