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. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. ” She commanded him in a low tone. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking.
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