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"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. There is no Heaven for your mother. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. You’re of age— you’re of age.
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