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. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. “You shall go,” he declared. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing. ” “Two years ago,” she answered. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that.
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