216 “Please, get dressed. “I certainly knew him no better than you. " 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. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. God, we suck. " "Ah. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. Let me take the satchel, sir.
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