’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style. 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. " "Enough," returned Jackson, extending his hand; "and if I've expressed myself warmly, I'm sorry for it likewise. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St.
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