She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. ” She laughed. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. 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. . \" She sat down on a nearby bench.
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