“I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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