He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. By a sort of instinct. I got a rusty bolt cutter. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked.
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