’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. The police are concerned in it in either event. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. 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.
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