Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. ‘Certainly I can prove it. Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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