‘But you do not understand, mon ami. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. Profoundly. Her tone was icy. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. She will cry for days and nights together. ” He took them from her and read them. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. . "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. " "All right.
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