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. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. ’ ‘But I can’t leave you, miss. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. . Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide.
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