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"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. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. “You found the flat easily?” said Capes in the pause. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. They vanished through the doorway.
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