” Lucy became livid with rage. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone.
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