“I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. He gripped the window-sill behind him. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. We both understood that. " 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. But he afterwards acted upon the suggestion.
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