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 fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. From the second descended Mr.
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