Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth. “If you speak—farewell. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is.
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