"Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. His chin was angular and his lips were 16 small, his mouth tiny and refined. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. ‘You were his daughter. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. You mustn't go by what you read so much as by what you see and hear.
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