We were only—les autres. Ennison!” He released her. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Her first orders were to summon the rest of her servants to make immediate preparations for her departure for Lancashire. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. She was naturally weaker, she would tire quicker, and she need not concern herself with the peculiar obligations of honour obtaining amongst gentlemen.
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