" The spinster's face actually became warm. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. 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. Melusine, intent upon preventing Gosse from securing the fallen weapon, paid no attention. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him.
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