She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. " "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women.
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