As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. " "And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are," muttered Blueskin;—"to be turned off at a moment's notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not.
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