"Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. So these two young philosophers got along very well that day; and the succeeding days. “If I thought for a moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and tell him the truth even now. You go to your room and ring for your maid.
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