Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. Jack in all probability, would have escaped, if Langley, who was left in the Lodge, had not been alarmed at the noise and rushed thither.
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