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"You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. She awoke and found herself home amid a pile of three bodies, one of which she recognized as a former denizen of the household. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!.
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