He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. ” Diane purred.
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