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. Rollo began to cavort. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone.
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