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But he did not follow on with the thought. But Gerald kept to a casual note. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. CHAPTER XXVI. "Then we're imprisoned. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Into one of these the waterman jumped, and, having assisted Mr. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack.

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