. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. She did not resist him, she could not. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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