It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. \"The servants will hear you!\" \"I don't care! Why do you?” She cried. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. ” “How absurd!” Annabel declared. . At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. John picked it up and put it in her hands. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. " "Horror!" cried Jack. " "Let them attempt it, if they dare!" cried Mrs. 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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