Time after time he sent Spurlock into this corner or that; but always the boy regained his feet before the murderous boot could reach the mark. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. This is clear over my head.
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