He laughed. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. Before many minutes elapsed, he had picked a large hole in the plaster, which showered down in a cloud of dust; and breaking off several laths, caught hold of a beam, by which he held with one hand, until with the other he succeeded, not without some difficulty, in forcing out one of the tiles. So, let's think no more about it. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. Think of those days in Paris. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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