I had already won wars and sailed ships to distant lands by the time I was thirty. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life.
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