"Joan! Joan!" vociferated he, "open the door, for God's sake, or I shall be murdered, and so will your babby! Open the door quickly, I say. I have never been wrong about the sex of an unborn child. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. And not a worthy tome in sight.
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