"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. I'm no mollycoddle. “We’ve made out but we haven’t had sex. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. ” Shari brushed by her mother in the hallway, who grunted.
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