’ Gerald grinned. " "Away with him!" cried Jonathan. ” “Can’t we go down into Italy?” “No,” he said; “it won’t run to that now. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. 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. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. "There won't be much left for you," he said. That’s probably true.
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