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. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. “You’ve got to take the decent reasonable way. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNy4xMDIuMzQgLSAyMS0wNS0yMDI0IDAwOjUwOjA0IC0gMTQ2MjAwMzc2Ng==
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