“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. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention.
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