" Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. “So it seems that I was wrong. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import.
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