Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. "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 shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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