“Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. “That beast of a fellow is certain to be hanging about. He gave you a poison. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. ‘You kissed me that you might make me find it for you instead?’ ‘I had no such intention.
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