" "They're lifting her out of the carriage," interposed Charcam; "will it please your honour to send for some advice and the chaplain?" "Fly for both," returned Sir Rowland, in a tone of bitter anguish. " 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 had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. "I wonder if you will understand what this kindness means to me? I am so terribly wise—and so wofully ignorant!" CHAPTER XII The doctor shifted his books and magazines to the crook of his elbow.
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