Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. Goodbye. 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. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale.
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