“Let me get you some water, Annabel. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. ” She shook her head. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life.
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