“But, forgive me, you are tired. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak. Saviour's Stairs. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. "Take care of your charge.
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