"Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. Her eyes quizzed the major. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ’ ‘No, I won’t. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. "Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. " "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh.
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