Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. 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. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. . “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. Hist!’ he added, as he turned his head and noticed Alderley’s glance.
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