“Good-bye, John,” she said simply. A fever of shame ran through her being. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. Mr. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. She made an abrupt personal appeal. But finding all continue silent, he cautiously lifted the latch, and crept into the room, resolved to punish the offender in case his suspicions should prove correct. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room.
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