" "What has he done?" "What did he have to drink over here last night?" "Not even water. “Let’s go home. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. He looked at her reproachfully.
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