‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench.
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