“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. . You cannot draw. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. As a matter of fact Mr. Mr. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly.
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