“You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. There are way-stations—even terminals. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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