” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. ’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. “So am I. 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. Pull yourself together now.
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