"Are you sure these bars touch the ground?" "They come within a yard of it," answered Jonathan. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. It can wait a bit longer.
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