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” “It might become one,” he answered. Anna hailed a bus. 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. “P. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t. ” “I think, Mr. She reflected before answering. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. Sheppard. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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