I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. You must live for me. "These writer chaps are queer birds.
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