" "Not necessarily. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go.
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