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“My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. But about dat jonker," he continued, lowering his voice; "have you anything to add consarnin' him? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. "Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here.
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