But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. There’s a great gulf opened, and nobody’s got any plans what to do with us. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild.
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