" "Permit me to see it, Sir James!" requested Jack. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Completely overcome by fatigue, with strained muscles, and bruised hands; streaming with perspiration, and with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if he had possessed it for a draught of water; he sank against the wall, and while in this state was seized with, a sudden and strange alarm. . It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. 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. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. I thought that he was dead.
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