"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. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. "Mr. ‘I did not think so. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. " "I can't.
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