Austin, who had been evidently schooled by Wild, maintained a profound silence on this head. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery.
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