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One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. "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. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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