“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. An hour later the doctor arrived; and after a thorough examination, he looked doubtful. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. 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.
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