There were so many things about her which he could not understand. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice. "Rot, weren't they?" "No.
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