. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. "Do you mean to tell me he's come and gone in an hour? What the devil kind of a father is he?" Spurlock shook his head. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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