"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. What had Brewis Charvill to say to that, Gerald?’ ‘He had nothing to say to it. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. Not part with him!" added he aloud. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. ‘Soldier of fortune. “Act three. ’ ‘A pretty tale.
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