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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. “I think that’s the right name. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. . "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. She was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler and a little thinner.
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