And, whatever you may think, I assure you, Jack's a downright goodnatured fellow. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically.
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