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. Then he relaxed back a little, and let the weapon dangle from his fingers. I’m turning into a big fat cow. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Kneebone assures me he didn't receive them, I can't do otherwise than believe you.
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