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. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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