"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. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. It is the vapouring school girl.
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