And now she had sent Jack away. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. I’ve made no mention of guns and daggers or, indeed, any of the more exciting aspects of the business. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. " "This is folly," cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort.
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