And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. " "Take it back yourself," retorted Jack, sullenly. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. ” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. Teacher returned, and with her the casual sense of 146 order. Spurlock bent his head to the rail. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. “Both!” said Ann Veronica.
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