" Himself. 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. He was a little embarrassed. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. " "And by whom were they both destroyed?" demanded his sister, raising herself by a painful effort, and regarding him with a searching glance.
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