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. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. ’ ‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything. He's got the gift of the gab.
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