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“So very clear and cold,” she said. That was the true marvel of it. They're gone into the next room. The Night-Cellar XVIII. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Courtlaw rose to his feet. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds.
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