" 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. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. ” He held out his hand obediently. 5. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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