"What is your name?" "Ruth. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "Now, step this way, Mr. I am sure.
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