And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. ’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future.
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