He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. Mere formality. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. This is not what I want.
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