Glad you're home safe. He could not kiss Ruth. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII.
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