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Prison was beastly. " 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. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. I want to know who sent you those. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. " "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically.
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