A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. 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. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day.
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