"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. It isn’t illusions—for us. . "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. "I find I was in error. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. The stranger turned his head at the sound. “Let me know the truth.
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