He snatched on his yarn socks and began to raise the window, saying in a voice unsteady with anger-- "_You_ think I dasn't--_you_ do! Think what you blame please--_I_ don't care what you think.

I'll show you!" The window made him rage; it wouldn't stay up.

I said-- "Never mind, I'll hold it." Indeed, I would have done anything to help.

I was only a boy, and was already in a radiant heaven of anticipation.

He climbed carefully out, clung to the window-sill until his feet were safely placed, then began to pick his perilous way on all fours along the glassy comb, a foot and a hand on each side of it.