Mr. I hope that you did not permit her to feed?” “But I did! I did!” She sobbed. But that was all over. And lunged once more. 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. ‘But tell me this instead. You'll do. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares.
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