Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. . And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Plainly. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. "It is," replied Sheppard. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him.
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