And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. The worst was over now. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. " There was a pause. . I—well, I lost my temper.
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