Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. 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. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. I love him as a brother.
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