But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. "I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. You know the danger of this breakneck road as well as I do. 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. It was then, I am sure, empty. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. ‘Here we go again. They were true noblemen, men of the court. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast.
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