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 presume that I may not kiss you in the street?” “Certainly not, sir,” she replied, laughing. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work.
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