" 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 gave your name. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him.
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