Easily. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat.
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