He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. 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. Wait a second. Capes? Well, think what it must be to live in them—soul and mind and body! It’s fun for a man to jest at our position. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.
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