Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. For that worthless father of yours—’ Melusine let go the hand only so that she might throw her own hands in the air. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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