“Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. “Oh! I wish,” she said, “that people thought alike about these things. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. But that still left the forty pounds!. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. You are not a coward David, and you must not talk like one.
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