Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. Anna said nothing. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. 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. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. White will present her bill.
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