” He relapsed into a stony silence. The period of repression was over. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. " 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. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand.
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