’ A grimace crossed her face. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. 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. Wait, though. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures. Her greatest exploit was the howling before the mid-day meal. His hug became an embrace.
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