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. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. With her foodle doo! "I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. She saw his eyes glaze over. He was a fool.
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