You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. ” She whispered. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. And then her pace slackened. I think you are hard. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper.
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