“Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. " 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. They mean everything that women can mean—except submission. ‘And all to help me.
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