“I was sick of the make-believe. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. " "Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am.
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