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" "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee.
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