97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. I thought I'd been sufficiently explicit," continued Jonathan. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp.
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