\" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance. ” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. Decidedly this was imbecile. 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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