But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. She sensed that he was looking for her. She has also been afflicted with occasional returns of her terrible malady. 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. "You are my prisoner, Jack. He tried again.
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