Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. 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. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck.
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