"I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas. 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. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered.
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