Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. ” He paused for a time. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood. ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly. CHAPTER XIV. ’ ‘I will not. You make me angry, and I lie.
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