" "Irons—heavy irons—night and day. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. John eased off. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. " 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. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. She was furiously angry.
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