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82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. “As a second job?” “Right about five months ago when Larry fell off the truck and we stopped seeing each other, Cathy took a second job. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. They want some fun, and there isn't any. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females.
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