" And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. “Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. The Ragged Edge.
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