“A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. 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. Supposing you fetch what you can, and if you will allow me, I will see you off. I WAS talking to him before I saw his name on the card beside the row of microscopes. “Tut, tut!” he said.
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