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Jack Sheppard again sought his pistol, and was only withheld from levelling it at
the thief-taker's head, by the hope that he might gather some further information
respecting his mother. \"
\"It's okay. 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. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. “Come, daddy,” said Ann Veronica, following her husband and Miss Stanley;
and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendly squeeze to the parental arm. She could smell
the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn,
1
even under the frozen ground. ‘Well, young man,’ he
said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. CHAPTER XXXI.
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