‘Damnation! Too late. Good-bye aunt. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. “Please forgive me, Lucy. So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state. I'd like to be alone now. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. 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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