“Then you—you will?” A long pause. " 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. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire.
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