"Oh! Jack! Jack!—you little know what a price I've paid for you!" "Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Manning as they talked. ‘I can’t do that. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good.
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