I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Lucy kissed him on the cheek. Life is so good. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it.
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