Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all.
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