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. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change.
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