And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. ‘Not where we’re going. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. “You too sing?” he asked.
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