To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. “Sure, are you sure you’re okay?” He exited off the highway onto a quiet road and pulled over. Neither he nor Gerald chose to attire themselves in full military rig on fashionable occasions such as this. Then for a time she sat very still. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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