Night and day have been alike to me. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. But, as he made no answer, he was removed. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. You make a game with me, imbecile. Try something.
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