The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. “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. It could not be a legal marriage. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. “Not really. ’ He frowned again.
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