Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. "In the devil's name, is that you, Jack!" ejaculated Kneebone.
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