"No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd. You have misunderstood. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. I won’t try. Drawing his hanger he rode amongst the crowd, trampled upon those most in advance, and made an attempt to seize their leader, in whom he recognised Blueskin. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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