" "How?" exclaimed the other. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. “I MUST speak to you,” he said.
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