His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. "And now, mark me. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. The soldiers! They must not find her here. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978.
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