Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. “It’s the spring,” he said. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. " 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. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. “You, too,” he said abruptly. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded.
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