" "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. On the contrary. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. “Go on!” she commanded. They cleaned up the mess as best they could and she went home with him docilely.
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