"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. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She looked at him curiously. " Jonathan raised his bludgeon, but controlled himself by a powerful effort.
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