"I knew he would," replied the Amazon. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. 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. Yet you knew that I was not dead. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. What was his problem, she thought to herself. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me.
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