” He was slightly tipsy. ” “I am not afraid,” she answered. 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. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. Oh, Mr Jarvis paid no mind,’ she added hastily, as if expecting disapproval.
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