Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. "No," replied Hogarth, hastily effacing the sketch. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. She told you —the truth. " 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.
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