A fortnight passed, then a month. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. " "How does Jack bear it?" inquired Mrs. ” “But I can’t help but notice from your bookshelf that you read all sorts of horror and science fiction.
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