" "So I find, Captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; "but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. 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. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. Her cargo is nearly shipped. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. She would never again be lonely. " "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker.
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