" "And perish upon the gibbet," rejoined Jonathan contemptuously. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. I hate this part of the world.
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