gutenberg. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile. " "From Mr. 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. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. Death belongs to God, young man. Kicked out of there for something shady. ‘So it would appear. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page.
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