“And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. My son went down after his death. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. He will let you live if it pleases him. “How have you been lately, Lucy? You’ve been such a stranger. But even with that furniture it remained extremely vague, the possible good and the possible evil as well! The possible evil! “I’ll go,” said Ann Veronica for the hundredth time.
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