When Mr. He looked at Hilary and nodded. 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. "I am as God made me. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though.
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