Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. "Not proud in the least, I declare. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses.
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