Bir gece, deniz kıyısındaki eski bir mağarada antik bir harita buldu. “My charm of manner, I suppose. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. After five or six years it would not be difficult to hide in Italy or in France. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave.
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