CHAPTER XIXTHE HIGH HORSE OF ROMANCEYoure a kind of Bible boy, arent you?
They were resting on the edge of a wood, half hidden in bracken, recovering their breath. Oak-trees, overhanging them, made an archway. Behind, down green fern-carpeted aisles, mysterious paths led into the unknown. In front a vague sea of meadows stretched, with wild flowers for foam and wheat-fields for sands. In the misty distance the window of a cottage caught the sunset and glowed like the red lamp of a ship which rode at anchor.
A Bible boy! Not if I know it. Ruddy grinned, and frowned, and scratched his leg. He was embarrassed in the presence of feminine beauty. If anything but feminine beauty had called him a Bible boy, he would certainly have punched its head. Not if I know it, he said. Im no li
