Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. “So you’d best open your coffers. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. “You have killed me.
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