The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers. But I shan’t try to stop you. “About two years ago. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. Afterwards was the most delightful part of all!.
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