“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. 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. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. She proffered her neck towards him. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. \"I'd like some popcorn.
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