” She rose up. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. ” “I’m sorry. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. That’s all. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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