The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American.
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