"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. A man came out, and walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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