‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. It was in this state that Mark McCloskey caught her.
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