Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. I do like to see old friends back here. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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