Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. It will be his interest to do so. ” The official had no more to say. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. ” “It isn’t exactly that,” Anna answered, “but to tell you the truth, I cannot bear to look upon myself as a rank failure. The above description of —the great Figg, by the prize-fighting swains Sole monarch acknowledged of Mary'bone plains— may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. Wood, popping her head through the window.
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