“So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. Aha!" he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, "I see you're confounded. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. Wild himself if I met him," retorted Jack. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days.
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