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” He crossed himself and grinned. "Disparity of rank is ever productive of unhappiness in the married state. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. 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. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. " "May be," returned the man gravely. .
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