A nurse was at the other end of the room. Life is so good. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. And now she had sent Jack away. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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