Anna was unimpressed. 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. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Well, it's scarcely credible. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy.
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