Sit Down, My Dear Lady, Said the Lounging Man

Gail: The punk was blowing his top all over the train. I had to bring him along. She means you, said Sylvia, who laughed. Gail sat down in a chair. Who's going to rub him out? she asked. Well, my dear lady, said the lounging man, a most homely little touch. Was a touch, demanded Egypt. He paled and sat down.

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