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. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. I love you. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. C. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered.
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