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. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake.
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