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The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. 1 through 1. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. He sat down beside her just as the room became darker.
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