Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. But let that verse tell my secret. I feel years younger, a man again. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style.
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