Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. She reached for the door handle. He took up his hat and went. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. " "Are they good?" "He can write; but he hasn't found anything real to write about. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. There stepped forth a tall brown man.
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