" 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. " "We won't trust you, my youngster," answered the janizary. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. ” She shook her head.
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