" 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. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. “He’d better treat you right this time or I’ll pulverize him, you hear?” Lucy gave in to the hug. . ‘C’est ridicule. You certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?” “You have been wrapped up in your politics,” she murmured.
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