He did not even reply to her for several minutes. " "O Jack, dear, dear Jack!" cried Mrs. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find.
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