It is so tiresome, and I am not in the least inclined to be industrious." I took the wool and set to work.

It was very easy, after all; I pulled the loops through, and back again and through from the other side, and I found the ends, and began to wind it up on a piece of paper.

It is singular, though, how the unaided wool can tie itself into every kind of a knot--reef, carrick bend, bowline, bowline in a bight, not to mention a variety of hitches and indescribable perversions of entanglement.

I was getting on very well, though.

I looked up at her face, pale and weary with a sleepless night, but beautiful--ah yes--beautiful beyond compare.