She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. 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. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper.
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