He handed Ruth a letter. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ‘Madwoman,’ he screamed back, as he climbed over the next pew, eyes darting down briefly to check for his sword. “You have the temperament,” he said.
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