She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. 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. ’ ‘The horse?’ echoed Melusine. ” She rose up.
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