"I will make a bar to hold the door."
"Yes, Peter."
"Two bars would be better, perhaps?"
"Yes, Peter."
"You would feel safe, then—safer than ever?"
"Safer than ever, Peter."
CHAPTER XXII
IN WHICH THE ANCIENT DISCOURSES ON LOVE
I am forging a bar for my cottage door: such a bar as might give check to an army, or resist a battering-ram; a bar that shall defy all the night-prowlers that ever prowled; a stout, solid bar, broad as my wrist, and thick as my two fingers; that, looking upon it as it lies in its sockets across the door, Charmian henceforth may sleep and have no fear.
The Ancient sat perched on his stool in the corner, but for once we spoke little, for I was very busy; also my mind was plunged in a profound reverie.