You make a game with me, imbecile. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. ’ ‘Because you are a pig!’ retorted Melusine hotly. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror.
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