With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. Here again instinct guided her. His age was not far from fifty. Yet she never once thought of changing it. She looked up quickly.
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