" 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. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. This was just what he needed. The next moment, he was felled to the ground by Jonathan Wild, who sprang into the room, followed by Abraham bearing the link. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself.
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