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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. ” She looked at him quizzically. And if this soi-disant Valade had already gone to Monsieur Charvill— ‘Very well,’ she said to Jack without turning round, ‘but now is Wednesday. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you.
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