McClintock. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. 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. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me.
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