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. We must take the children—of any race—if we would teach knowledge. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Courtlaw stood up.
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