“I would not have you go for anything,” she answered. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. She woke up choking and belching water. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. Please to release me. "And will swear to it?" "I will.
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