She knew nothing of what he was reading, but his voice made sweeter music than she had ever heard before.
At length the book was closed, and Ronald wondered what thoughts were running through his companion's simple, artless mind.

So he talked to her of her daily life, her work, her pleasures, her friends.

As he talked he grew more and more charmed; she had no great amount of intellect, no wit or keen powers of repartee, but the girl's love of nature made her a poetess.

She seemed to know all the secrets of the trees and the flowers; no beauty escaped her; the rustle of green leaves, the sighs of the western wind, the solemn hush of the deep-green woods, the changing tints of the summer sky delighted her.
Beautiful words, embodying beautiful thoughts, rippled over the fresh, ripe lips.

She knew nothing else.