And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Yet there was nothing for her to do. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. I have never wept since that day.
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