" "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. It isn’t such fun as it seems. . You must let me do whatever I can for you. ” She looked at him quizzically.
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