‘Well, I thought as how someone in the house in Paddington might see me hanging about outside like. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. " 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. “Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing.
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