Those grand designs in the dome of St. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. It was fastened inside. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence.
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