What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. Mr. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. There must be something we can do. 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. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women.
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