“Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. ” “Kate who?” Lucy asked. 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. “Of course. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. CHAPTER XXVI. III. "I do," replied Jack, carelessly.
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