“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. With the same inducements we should all do the same thing. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. Easily. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. “Damned Rascal!” he said.
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