Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. ” He looked at Lucy. I'll call for you after lunch. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword.
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