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" CHAPTER VI. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or disarranged furniture. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. They almost made me feel like they were mine. The second is to somehow meet Lady Ferringhall. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise.
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