The door leaned inward. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his.
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