" 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. ‘It must seem strange to you at first. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. ” “I am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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