The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. And then suddenly—a relief. 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. With Jack so badly injured, how would she get him home? How get herself home, now that Trodger had arrested her. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing.
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