He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks.
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