“It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. The starling, on which the carpenter stood, was the fourth from the Surrey shore. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. There it was—to be borrowed.
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