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 wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. “It was inevitable,” he declared. “Just look that through, will you. “I believe it is. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. ” Anna sprang up. . " Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside. She made me over.
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