“And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. " "Right," answered Ireton. " While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. She kept her eyes closed. He kissed her fingers and grinned. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. . I am your servitor.
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