Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is. “Non. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. I am sure. He could not make good his hold. ‘Parbleu, you waste time. But I must summon my janizaries.
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