I jumped then—I was not even shaken. ‘Eh bien, does that mean that you will do it again?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad.
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