I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can.
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