" 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. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. I can’t love you. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. But if you have considerable money, you had better leave it in the office safe. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. I’ve wanted you—always.
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