\"Oh. May I know your name?’ The lady eyed him. ‘But I do not pay this penalty. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. He hated himself a little for it.
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