Then she moved towards the door. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. But she no longer felt Jacomo’s age, even if she looked it. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead.
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