Voilà tout. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. ‘Come on, Hilary. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. Everything I could do! Your father sat up all night. ’ With an air of real interest, he asked, ‘I suppose you did not dig a tunnel or fly in by balloon?’ The lady gazed at him blankly. ’ He sighed. 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.
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