‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels.
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