" "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. "The traps!" responded a bystander. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Lucy trudged upstairs behind 258 him and he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about this evening. ” He shook his head.
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