He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. 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. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. "Besides, you'll not be able to get in without me. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. Gerald grinned. For a few moments Mr. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. An hour later the doctor arrived; and after a thorough examination, he looked doubtful.
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