" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. Time enough for Gosse to shut her mouth forever, as he did not hesitate to point out to her. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. 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. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. It's as strong, if not stronger, than this. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour.
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