Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack.
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