At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. “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. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. "I can't say I do," replied Wood.
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