The Well Hole 336 XIII. He was now almost driven to despair. “To my chagrin, I have. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. ’ ‘Do not say so. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. ” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly. Sheppard.
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