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. You are the High Priestess of Life. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. So far as regards his attire, Baptist was not seen to advantage.
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