"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. ’ Roding left the house instantly, not even pausing to nod. ” He crossed himself and grinned. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. Stanley poured wine. " "It was Blueskin," observed Jack. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind.
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