But, let's see the prisoner. ” Lucy commented, dismayed. "She is saying that you, a woman, will readily understand the position in which she finds herself. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. 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. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty.
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