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. "I am expected, I find," observed Jack, glancing at the well-covered board. Ramage, and might describe the affair to him, she cried “Oh!” with renewed vexation, and repeated some steps of her dance in a new and more ecstatic measure. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket.
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