“Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. . “They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively rude to me because I could not. Yon must be mine to-night. She despises me, I suppose. And the fences are down for good. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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