"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. ” “And they won’t let us make plans for ourselves. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones.
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