And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind.
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