Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city.
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