" 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. Then the inner door opened abruptly. "I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “I’m thirsty. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. “YOU had to come in. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet.
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