A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. C below. Madame shrugged. Buck up. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. ’ ‘Do you take me for a fool, Hilary?’ demanded his betrothed. That would come later. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. 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. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being.
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