ble up the curly little steps and get the front seat, if you can. Then it's something like being in a very low airplane. And Riverside Drive! That's almost lovelier than the Park. The 'bus goes skimming along beside the river. The sky and the water and the opposite shore are all one color, a wonderful, misty, emerald green. In fact, you couldn't see the other shore at all, if there were not a few lights shining on it. In the strip of parkway close at hand, more lamps twinkle between the tall poplar trees. Have you ever seen a poplar tree?"
Garth had not.
"I can't exactly explain them," Joan said. "You'll have to wait until you see them. They're a different-looking sort of tree, very nice. At any rate, there are lots of them on Riverside Drive. Automobiles and other 'busses stream past, something like fiery-eyed dragons, with their white and red lights. The roadway is so smooth that it looks like a river itself, steely-blue and shining, turning and dipping. I remember that one evening when I was staying in New York last winter, I looked out of the bus window and saw a lot of—er—battleships in the river."
She stole a look at Garth, who reproached her.
