“How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. “Dear John,” she whispered. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ” Miss Pellissier was beginning to recover herself. Of course a little daughter is a delightful thing enough. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking.
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