You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. It was a mass of knick-knacks.
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