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. You desert your home; I throw up useful teaching, risk every hope in your career. Dolby smiled. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance.
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