"Be it so," replied Jack. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. "I am sorry. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm.
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