‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. " 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. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child.
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