She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. The young man looked at her. Suddenly she had become afraid. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. . "Love me, love my dog! Because I've scolded him and told him a few truths, you are ice to me. You wore a blue dress with your hair unbound, and never had I seen a maid so glorious with eyes so blue or a smile so bright. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home.
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