She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Wood required little pressing. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. ‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. And that’s why I’m at your service. It is to take place to-night. .
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