"Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. ‘Precisely. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. 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. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. An old woman took her in. Nasty, damp passages. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and addresses. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked.
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