Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. "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. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. " So saying, she retired, and Jack entered the cell. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated.
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