Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. “Before I met you I was deluded into receiving upon friendly terms a man named Hill, who passed himself off as Meysey Hill the railway man, but who was in reality an Englishman in poor circumstances.
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