’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. I offered him a hundred to watch Spurlock. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. I think not. "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.
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