“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. “She must,” said Mr. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's.
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