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. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. ‘You know what I am about,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. " "I can't endure the odious baggage.
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