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" 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 was a thief, a fugitive from justice. Hill’s first night back amongst us, too. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. " "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer.
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