The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. “Well, hello there. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them.
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