'" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. 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. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you.
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