"Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. I spent my fair share of time in the closet.
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