And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. But, as he made no answer, he was removed. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. “Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?” he asked Anna. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr.
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