From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. "I see nothing surprising in it," rejoined Jonathan. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. 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. ’ ‘You won’t go to the general then?’ ‘There is no need. He grunted, and his grip gave.
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