‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. . ‘And why have you not arrested him? Do not tell me you have allowed him to escape you. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. “I shot him. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. Blest with a fond husband, surrounded by every comfort, you have never been assailed by the horrible temptations to which misery has exposed me.
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