" Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. " 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. ‘It does not seem to me that you can be an emissary for that pig.
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