And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. ‘Must be still downstairs. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. We may be stopped. His arm fell to his side. No lights were flashing, and a single squad car was not a cause for alert, as sometimes the Becks allowed squads to use their drive to watch for speeders and other reckless drivers.
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