Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream.
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