"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. . Do you know what? You're some sea goddess and you're only fooling us. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. "Oho!" he said. . He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. .
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