And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. ” “Go!” he said. He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. And there, about Saas, are ice and snows again, and sometimes we will loiter among the rocks and trees about Saas or peep into Samuel Butler’s chapels, and sometimes we will climb up out of the way of the other people on to the glaciers and snow. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown.
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