“You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. I must leave England to-night. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). I’ve bored you or something. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. " 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.
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