’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. 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. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too.
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