“We parted— that night the best of friends. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. " "I think I remember reading something about your father in the papers," observed Wood. The less she lived, in fact, the better. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. " "What should I tempt you to?" asked Blueskin, in surprise. He might miss at this distance.
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