“Good God!” he exclaimed. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. Now I require it, only that I may stop this pig from ruining all. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. O'Higgins, but I decline to give you the least information. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy.
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