Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. " 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. "Gracious Heavens! this is more wonderful than all the rest," cried the carpenter, rubbing his eyes. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot.
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