“I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. The man was dangerous.
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