I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ’ Hilary stared. Anna——” Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. "You are not. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. Chairs were overturned.
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