“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. Hogarth, and Mr. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. He reached for her, and she struck savagely. He’ll survive.
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