You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. He carried a small bag.
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