Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. 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. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand.
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