"Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Wood. Ah! there he stands!" he exclaimed as his eye fell for the first time upon Sir Rowland.
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