It is no good going into that. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. Her hips were wide and her athletic legs supported a very large rear end, which she flaunted by 140 wearing her gym shorts two sizes too small. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. ” “You should have let me do this for you a long time ago. ‘Bring her to me and we shall see. . Luck.
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