"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "Then it is not too late to save him. . A fortnight passed, then a month. wonderful. ’ ‘A dagger, is it then?’ The girl froze. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. “I suppose you’ll come to the point soon—if there is one. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. You came to see me in the hospital.
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