And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. I came here to beg you not to sign that contract. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly.
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