And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where they had no chance of getting away. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven.
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