“You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. A deadlock. Jack tried it, and found it locked.
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