You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her.
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