She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. "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. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound.
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