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. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. With her lived a Mrs.
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