What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. “It is a hateful story. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. "I do," replied Kneebone. . I demand it as a right. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire.
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