" "Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak.
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