There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. He dropped the key on the counterpane. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. He was entranced as she walked towards him. The faithful fellow will never leave me. It’s so different from what one has been led to expect. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth.
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