" Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew.
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