You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. He disappeared and she was finally convicted for past child abuse, but because she was diagnosed as schizophrenic they put her in a state mental ward instead of jail.
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