The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. I’m going to tell you things plainly. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. Get me an interview with her. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry.
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