" 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. Gerald frowned. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above.
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