But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. 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. ” “Afraid!” “Yes. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before.
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