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. “My wife. He resented being regarded as irregular. “Well,” she admitted. " "You paint yourself worse than you are, dear Mrs. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. ‘We’ll have you right out of the way, just in case. \" She whispered back. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. The ruffian's companions took his part. So saying, he manfully resumed his work; while Wood and Thames quitted the room, and went down stairs. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her.
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