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But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. Hence!" "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice, the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct, "listen to me. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. I want to get away—to go to London. 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. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag.
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