" 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. “It was my sister Anna. Wood. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. The girl nodded sagely. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things.
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