Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. 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. \"Thanks for walking me home. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand.
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