"Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Until the age of five she adored him. " "I see," remarked Kneebone. " "May be," returned the man gravely. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs.
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