From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. But I will never—never return. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. “I think that’s the right name.
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