I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Cocking the gun. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away.
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