“I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. While you live in my house you must follow my ideas. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. Surely our advice would have been worth having, at any rate. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel.
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