“You shall go,” he declared. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. Without her, it was lonely. Heaven alone knows why. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. " "And what is that?" "I have relatives not far from Hartford.
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