“I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. I have been stupid and foolish. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. ” She said, rubbing Lucy’s back. " Ruth stood with drawn brows; she was trying to recall. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate.
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