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. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. I did not reckon upon—him.
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