“It is a great art,” she said in broken English. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She tried to think how people get work. I am sorry to seem to hurt you, but all I say is for your good. " 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. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. I do not intend to allow you to forget. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening.
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