He was hanging from the shrouds in an attitude she knew all too well: exactly so had they played together in the tall trees of the Botanical Gardens across the river. She was aware of a twinge of envy: how she would have loved to be up there, hanging on the ropes with him; but instead, here she was, on the stepladder, swathed from head to toe, while he was free and at large in the open air—the worst of it was that it was she who had always been the better climber.
