"We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. Her lips were dry and cracked. " 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. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. ” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. ’ Too late he saw his error.
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