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Updated: May 4, 2025
Polly was under restraint of little Clamp, of the toy shop, who was holding his hands in a complex and uncomfortable manner that he afterwards explained to Wintershed was a combination of something romantic called "Ju-jitsu" and something else still more romantic called the "Police Grip." "Pails," explained Mr. Polly in breathless fragments. "All over the road. Pails.
He's frightfully strong, and they say he licked the Japanese ju-jitsu man they had at the School of Physical Training. And, of course, there's old Beggs. You know, he was captain of England Rugger some years ago. He's broken his nose three times. . . ." "We all skylark together in the dog-watches," added another.
"It sounds as though somebody had been teaching you ju-jitsu by post." "They were great! Real red-hot stuff straight from the stable. Priceless tips like 'Make yourself indispensable to her in little ways', 'Study her tastes', and so on and so forth. I tell you, laddie, I pretty soon stopped worrying about who was sending them to me, and concentrated the old bean on acting on them.
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