“But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. 1.
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