"It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. " Du Val was hang'd, and the next who came On the selfsame stone inscribed his name: "Aha!" quoth the dubsman, with devilish glee, "Tom Waters your doom is the triple tree! With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "Tut, tut, tut," he cried, "what a fool I am to be sure! I ought to have cut John, not Jack. The plank hung over his head. He seemed to have expected them. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. He was consumed with desire.
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