It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. .
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