"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. It is better as it is. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben.
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