She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. 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. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. ” He crossed his arms.
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