Her sister had told him that it was true. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. I got a rusty bolt cutter. O'Higgins did not confide in me. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt.
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