Suppose our proper place is a shrine. No one spoke to her. You shall have your reward. She’s as stubborn as the proverbial mule, and—’ with a sigh that felt wrenched out of him ‘—utterly captivating. He returned the locket without comment. An old woman took her in. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. " 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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