Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. Don’t stand gawping, man. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. “I am just back from Paris.
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