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This, then, was the woman from whom Hoddy would not have accepted a cup of water. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. 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 said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. But there was a face pressed to the glass. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical.
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