She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. I’m sorry. " 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. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears.
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