“How are you feeling?” She asked. Before many minutes elapsed, he had picked a large hole in the plaster, which showered down in a cloud of dust; and breaking off several laths, caught hold of a beam, by which he held with one hand, until with the other he succeeded, not without some difficulty, in forcing out one of the tiles. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. CHAPTER I. He did not spend more time with her.
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