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It was not a long prayer. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. Wood brought up. I only arrived when everybody was coming away. 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.
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