Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. 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. I swear it. You know what's what. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. " "It was the knowledge of this feeling on your part, my love, that made me act without your express sanction.
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