“How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. "Well, how goes it?" he asked.
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