“Yes. “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. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal.
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