” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. 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. ” Lucy said, already exhausted by her friend. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things. She waited expectantly. "Good bye!" cried Mrs.
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