This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. " 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. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea.
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