“Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea.
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