Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. He has told me sufficient of you—" "My dear," interposed Wood, "for goodness' sake—" "I will speak," screamed his wife, totally disregarding the interruption; "I will tell this worthless creature what I know about her,—and what I think of her. It’s that has always made me—SHE, you know, was drawn into a set—didn’t discriminate Private theatricals. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre.
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