" 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. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. But no more of that. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames.
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