The second is to somehow meet Lady Ferringhall. Like a petulant child he snapped. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. After all, that was life.
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