‘Pitiful. 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. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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