" 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. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. ‘Certainly, if I was a nun, I know of many good names. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. They were bathing in the stream. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. “I feel fat! I already gained five pounds last week because I was stuck in bed with my ear infection.
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