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. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. Of all the amazing coincidences. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. That is why I am here.
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