In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. As this seemed insufficient, after a lapse of five minutes, he added another hundred weight. “It really is not necessary. The low ceiling made him seem abnormally tall. I spoke a thought aloud. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. It was the gallows. I’ve had a lot on my mind. That is what my mother used to call me. ‘The whole town is talking. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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