Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. I suppose we’re all human beings really, but what price the sacred Institution of the Family! Us as a bundle! Eh?. 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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