"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. No doubt he has been drinking for days without eating substantially, and his heart gave out. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers.
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