She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Shall I sew it on for you?" "If you wish. ” “And that, I suppose,” he said, waving his stick towards Mr. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them.
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