"I strangled him—ha! ha! ha!—strangled him while he was at my breast—ha! ha!"—And then with a sudden and fearful change of look, she added, "That's what has driven me mad, I killed my child to save him from the gallows—oh! oh! One man hanged in a family is enough. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals.
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