“It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. I really cared for him a little, but I am absolutely determined not to marry for some time at any rate. The shock and distress were genuine. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. His vicious abusiveness vanished. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. " 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. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward.
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