" 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. All her pride raged at me. Not about girls that I date. It must be sent home this evening. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence.
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