’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. More than ever a sense of confusion was upon Ennison. ’ ‘A very low stratagem, Hilary,’ Gerald said, turning on his captain with mock severity. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. She recoiled. The second look told me I was wrong. 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. His glance came up again and met hers.
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