" "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. " And he led the way to an inner room, in the middle of which stood a table, covered with a large white cloth. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop.
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