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. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom.
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