I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. 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.
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